


The Web that Weaves us Together

by stonyloveislife



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Civil War Fix-It, Come Sharing, Consensual Underage Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Everyone Has Issues, Falling In Love, Heavy Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Up, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Natasha Romanov Feels, Polyamory, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Natasha Romanov, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sassy Peter, So Wrong It's Right, Steve Rogers Feels, Switching, Taboo, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-20 09:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonyloveislife/pseuds/stonyloveislife
Summary: With the threat of Thanos looming, Stephen Strange intervenes, leaving Tony with a horrid vision and a cryptic message. Tony has to do everything he can to stop the world from ending which means facing a whole lot of shit he'd have more success at subtle avoidance. Along the way, he may find love and acceptance...just not in the traditional way society will be accepting of. *Mind the tags!*





	1. Chapter One: Strange Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, this is my first ever Marvel fanfic. Go easy on me...it may not always be canon (hence the reason it's fanfiction). I do also post on fanfiction.net under needlesandthread so if you see my work there, it's legit. I'm going to be moving over to this site however, since it is more explicit friendly! XD Constructive criticism is always welcomed, as are reviews and comments. Keep any flames and hate to yourself, ain't nobody got time for that. Also, bear in mind RL is a thing, and I will update as often as I can! Xxxooo

Chapter 1: Strange Encounter

 

“Sir, you appear to have a visitor.”

            Tony’s legs that were more blackened with oil stains than the actual color of the denim fabric of his work jeans were all that were visible from under the Audi R8 Spyder. He’d purchased himself a new one after its predecessor had been blown to bits and buried at sea in Malibu. Tony was meticulous about regular maintenance on his babies, and thus was beneath the sleek car changing the oil.

            “Whoever it is, tell them to go away,” Tony said absently to his AI, focused on replacing the oil filter until the voice of his supposed visitor spoke, the tone scraping along Tony’s nerves and fueling a light wave of panic that bloomed in his chest. Nobody should be able to get into the garage or the lab when he was in lockdown mode. He knew FRIDAY wouldn’t permit anyone to enter that didn’t have an override.

            “Not necessary, FRIDAY,” Stephen Strange said in a bored voice, and with the minute flick of a finger, yanked Tony out from beneath his car by manipulating his creeper, the wheels gliding effortlessly across the polished concrete floor of the garage. Tony sat up incredulously. He hated magic, he really did.

            “To what do I owe the honor of your presence, Cloak-n-boots?”

            Strange folded his arms across his chest and regarded Tony coolly.

“I’m Dr. Stephen Strange.”

“Can’t say I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Tony snarked, eyeing the amulet suspiciously that hung from the man’s neck. His fingers twitched, knowing with the push of a button on his watch the suit would automatically wrap around his body for protection. He knew his baby girl was running the man’s name now and would compile the information for him to look through after this, well, _Strange_ encounter.

 He and Tony hadn’t met before, but like anyone else, even before becoming Sorcerer Supreme, Strange knew of Stark. From what he’d seen of Tony from media in the past, he could see the toll the Accords and the Civil War between the Avengers had taken on the man. Tony would always look good, he was too blessed genetically, but the man had lost a good ten pounds. He had more wrinkles in his face and around his eyes than he had two months ago. Not having left his lab in weeks, more gray had streaked through his hair than he probably would’ve normally allowed and his usually sharply groomed facial hair was getting out of control.

            “I am going to make this short, as we are both men for which time is invaluable. Something wicked this way comes. We have, at best, 22 months to prepare for what is moving across the universe toward us. The state that the Avengers is in, and you, personally, Anthony, are not going to place humanity as we know it on the winning side.”

            Tony stood, hitching his jeans up over slightly protruding hip bones, eyeing the Sorcerer suspiciously. He was going to ignore the blow to his looks for now.

            “You going to enlighten me on what you know and how you know it?” Tony finally asked.

            Stephen simply twisted his fingers into what looked like a weird mudra to Tony and suddenly an image appeared before him. It was like a holographic that FRIDAY could produce but not brought about by scientific means. Again, Tony was reminded of how he wasn’t fond of magic and subtly flinched back.

            Tony looked at the image and fought down a wave of violent déjà vu with deep breaths. The Sorcerer showed him what looked like a giant purple alien, wearing gold colored armor, cackling while the world burned. In each hand he held the limp bodies of Tony’s friends- in his right hand was the large green body of the Hulk, whose face was smashed in beyond recognition. His left held Peter’s broken form by the back of his war tattered suit, his head hanging from an unnatural angle.

Steve lay dead at the monster’s feet, his shield shattered, the blue of his eyes muted in death but boring straight into Tony’s just as they had in Wanda’s vison. Something churned in Tony’s gut and he tore his eyes away from Steve’s; looking beyond the fallen Captain, he saw the War Machine armor was a mostly a mass of twisted and dented metal as if it were nothing more than crumpled up aluminum foil. Rhodey was dead and broken within. Bodies of deceased heroes littered the scene.

            Brown eyes forced themselves away from the gruesome illusion.

            “What is this?” Tony demanded, much like he had with Zemo only two months ago when his life fell apart. Except unlike that time, when his voice was strong with anger, Tony’s question came out as a haunted whisper. His heart twisted in his chest and he dug his nails harshly into his palms, trying to stave off the anxiety attack swirling around his lungs, threatening to cut off his air supply.

            “This is what will come to pass if I do not intervene. Normally, this would not be my first choice of method, but seeing as how time is valuable to us and cannot be wasted, I’m going to tell you how this vision comes to be. You, my friend, suffer osteomyelitis within your newly repaired sternum.”

            Tony’s hand involuntarily clutched his chest, right where the arc reactor used to be, in the exact spot Steve had smashed his shield into the Iron Man armor so hard he cracked Tony’s already fragile sternum that previously had to be reconstructed after the removal of the arc reactor. He was six weeks recovered from the surgery to repair it, adding yet another snarled scar to chest. He was finally cleared to lift objects under 30 pounds, but he did seem to remember the doctor saying something about being susceptible to infection now the subject arose.        

            “FRIDAY, scan my sternum for possible signs of osteomyelitis,” Tony asked, arching a brow smugly at the Sorcerer, who simply arched one back.

            “Osteomyelitis detected within 40% of the repaired bone structure, sir,” FRIDAY reported out clinically. “I advise contacting the surgeon’s office, would you like me to do so, sir?”

            “Not at the moment, thank you FRIDAY,” Tony replied. He felt scandalized that some complete stranger had strolled his way into his garage by some sort of fairy dust method and thought he fucking knew everything about him.

            “It’s too late anyhow,” Strange continued, albeit in a softer, more gentle tone. Tony’s eyes snapped to his and saw sympathy shining there.

            “Antibiotics won’t treat it. Your body has been under too much duress to handle the strong regimen of medicine they’d need to use to combat the infection and it would make you susceptible to another slew of infections. They decide on surgery to remove the infection, although it’s a fairly risky procedure.”

            “I don’t make it,” Tony deadpans, understanding dawning in his mind.

            “Sadly, no. You suffer a widow maker while they have you open on the table. Your heart has been through too much; resuscitation isn’t successful.”

            Tony begins to pace, his mind racing through possibilities and not liking the answers he was coming up with. He was just as unlikely to survive a heart transplant as he was the surgery to remove infection.

            “So, what do we do about it?” he finally asks Strange, afraid of the answer because he knew magic would be involved. Nothing good ever became of magic being used around Tony Stark. But he couldn’t let this reality come to pass. This time, the vision was real. This time, the whole entire world would be destroyed if he couldn’t it get right. He massaged his temples. He was getting too old for all the universe’s problems to keep falling on his doorstep.

            Strange smiled, and Tony was struck by how much the action simultaneously illuminated the man’s face and made him look lethal.

            “How did you like being 21?” Strange queried, and Tony’s eyebrows shot up.

            “That was the year I became CEO of Stark Industries. It was a good a year…I think. There were a lot of parties. I was often…moderately functional. Lots of women…yeah, it was a good year.”

            Strange smirked.

            “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

            “Well, that was a lifetime ago, and I don’t see what 21-year-old me has anything to do with our present situation,” Tony sniped, growing bored with the game Strange was playing.

            “Ah, but it has everything to do with our present situation,” the Sorcerer replied cryptically, “for it was before you sank into habits that would lead us here to your current health situation.”

            “So, what, you are here to use your magic to help me build a time machine to restore me to my former glory?” Tony scoffed haughtily.

            “Something like that,” Strange answered, sweeping his cloak back as his gaze narrowed in on Tony.

            “But, before we get started, I want to tell you something that you are not to forget, under no circumstances.”

            “Alright, lay it on me, elder Chris Angel.”

            Tony was used to people looking like they wanted to carve his eyes out with a plastic spork, so Strange’s look of murder at his comment bounced off him as if he was wearing the Iron Man suit.

            “Do not disregard the boy. What you are told by society; disregard it. He’s the web that will weave you all together.”

            “What? You mean Underoos?”

            “Parker,” correct Strange, “he’s the web that will weave you all together. Repeat it,” demanded Strange, looking so deadly serious Tony didn’t dare defy the order for fear the Sorcerer might really lose control and give him the head of a chicken or something.

            “Peter is the web that weaves us together,” Tony repeated, still not understanding what the hell Strange meant by that. What did any of this have to do with the kid?  
            “Good boy,” praised Strange.

            “Oh, fuck you,” Tony bit out.

            “No thank you, you are not my type,” Strange taunted.

            Tony was about to make a comment about magical blow up dolls but Strange interrupted him and stole his thunder.

            “You are going to want to drink a lot of water after this,” he advised, do that weird thing he did with his hands.

            “After what, exactly?” Tony inquired, taking a large step back from the Sorcerer.

            Said Sorcerer’s hands were bathed in a purple light that had swirling circles of what looked like ancient runes. Tony made for the button on his watch but Strange beat him by miles, aiming both hands at Tony and encasing him in the purple light. Tony’s eyes went wide with shock- he could feel the magic coursing through his body, twisting in his veins, curling around his bones, tingling up his nerves. It didn’t hurt, it was a warm feeling, and almost pleasurable the way a lover’s caress is across the back of your hand.

            However, whatever Strange was doing was rapidly draining his energy and Tony could feel his eyes growing heavy. It was almost like he’d been injected with a heavy sedative. He fought it although he knew he’d never win. Just before he drifted into unconsciousness he heard Strange’s voice echo through his mind.”

            “Peter is the web that weaves you all together.”

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

            Tony stirred groggily on the floor. Somewhere in the distance he thought he could hear FRIDAY, but it was far away and his head HURT. He felt like he’d been smashed into the side of a building by the Hulk without his armor on and somehow lived to tell the tale. Maybe that is what happened. Maybe Bruce had finally come back, gotten pissed at the state of abuse Tony had put his recovering body through, and Hulked out on him. God, he missed his science bro.

            “Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark, can you hear me?”

            Someone was jostling him. The movement made him nauseous. Why was his voice so fucking loud? Fingers found his pulse point on his neck. Tony didn’t know how steady the pulse was, but he knew he was alive, although he didn’t really want to be if it meant dealing with this pain. He pushed into the cool fingers, they felt remarkable on his feverish skin.

            “FRIDAY, what’s his condition? Vitals report,” demanded a female voice.

            Pepper? Oh, thank Thor! She’d help him feel better…oh fuck. Nope, nope if he was hung over, if he fucked up his sobriety, especially after having surgery, he was dead. She was probably about to put the heel of her Prada stiletto right through his jugular and end his suffering. He tried to think if he had all his documents in order in the event of his death. They probably were. Pepper took care of that sort of thing. She was so efficient; how did he deserve to be graced with an angel like her anyway?

            “Pulse 88, temperature 100.5. He seems to be suffering from a great deal of dehydration, Miss Potts,” informed his AI. Ah, his baby girl. She was a beautiful work of artful engineering.

            “Is it okay if I turn him over? I won’t hurt him, will I?”

            “Pete?” Tony groaned out, finally recognizing the other presence in the room.

            “Scans show he is perfectly intact, Mr. Parker, he is just delirious from dehydration.”

            “Tony, I swear if you got drunk and this is another famous Stark hangover, I’m officially quitting. If you cannot take your health seriously and want to kill yourself, I can’t stand by and watch you do it,” Pepper threatened, although she couldn’t quite keep the shakiness out that Tony knew all too well was her holding back tears of anger.

            Peter’s uncannily strong grip was on him, flipping him over with great care and Tony kept his eyes closed tight, the world spinning inside his head. When he opened his eyes and they finally focused, his vision was filled with Peter. His brown eyes were wide and filled with concern and he still cradled Tony’s head carefully in his hands.

            “Hey kid,” Tony croaked out, bringing an arm up to rest on Peter’s shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. It had been Peter who recovered him from his crash landing on the helipad after Siberia. The kid had helped pry him from the damaged armor and rushed him to medical, and was an ever-present appearance at his bedside as much as Pepper and Rhodey would allow before Tony was lucid enough to decide what he wanted Peter around to see. He hated that Peter had seen any of it, honestly. Tony wasn’t sure he wanted Peter seeing whatever this was, either.

            “Woah, Mr. Stark, you…”

            Peter trailed off, not knowing what to say or if he should say anything at all, his eyes tracing over Tony’s face in shock and a bit of awe. A thin finger traced over Tony’s cheek before the kid caught himself and gently set Tony’s head on the floor, shrugging out of his hooded jacket he always wore and balled it up, tucking it beneath Tony’s head as a cushion.

            Once Peter was no longer crouched over him, Pepper was next to appear, and her audible gasp of surprise before she clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, scared Tony. Pepper had seen a lot of things; if she was shocked, it probably wasn’t good.

            “That Harry Potter knock off gave me a chicken head, didn’t he,” Tony muttered, vowing to figure out how to build a suit impervious to magic and punch Stephen Strange right in his perfectly groomed face.

            Pepper was kneeling gracefully next to him, stroking his face, the corners of his eyes, and pushing back his hair that had fallen across his forehead.

            “Tony, what did you do? You are…young again,” Pepper breathed.

            Suddenly, Tony remembered Strange asking how he liked being 21. His eyes widened.

            “Get me to a mirror. Now.”

            “Tony, I don’t think sudden movements are-”

            “Kid, mirror,” Tony snapped, and Peter was hauling up him with inhuman strength, shouldering Tony’s weight as he half dragged his boss to the car he was lying a few feet from. He helped Tony sit in the driver’s seat and Tony snapped down the visor, sucking in a harsh breath at his reflection.

            “Holy shit!”

            “Tony!” Pepper admonished, looking pointedly at Peter.

            “Aw, he’s heard way worse, Pep,” Tony soothed, his voice gritty from thrist, still looking at his reflection in the mirror.

            “That is not something a responsible mentor should be proud of,” Pepper snapped back. She felt a headache coming on.

            “How did this happen, Mr. Stark? How old are you now? You look so different without facial hair.”

            “I’m 21, still older than you and still your boss Parker, so if you make any baby face jokes, you’re fired.”

            “Shutting up now,” Peter said with a smirk.

            “FRIDAY, light of my life, play back footage of Strange’s transformation.”

            Peter and Tony both turned and Pepper came to stand with them as FRIDAY projected back her recording of the events from last night on a large holographic screen.

            They all watched with wide eyes as Strange levitated Tony’s body, his entire form encapsulated in purple light. Large circles of runes and geometric shapes began to circle, crisscross and entwine around his form while Strange chanted some sort of incantation under his breath. The circles spun faster and faster until everything was just a blur of brilliant light. Abruptly, everything stopped, and Tony was lowered to the ground. As soon as he was safely on the floor, Strange was gone, sidestepping quickly through an arching portal of flames.

            “Bastard couldn’t even have the decency to put me somewhere comfortable,” grumbled Tony, feeling the kinks in his back ache from lying on a hard surface all night.

            “Come on, Spidey,” Tony croaked, making grabby hands at Peter. “Get me to the lab. We’ve got work to do.”

            “Tony, no. Now really isn’t the time, you should be resting!” Pepper cried, shooting Peter a look as he moved to help Stark up. The boy froze, clearly torn between who he was supposed to obey. Tony gave him a look and Peter sighed, offering Tony a hand to help pull him up from the car. He could feel Pepper’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his skull. He hoped he didn’t get trapped in the elevator with her any time soon. Pepper was scary.

            “FRIDAY, have like, 3 cases of water delivered to the lab. I feel like I swallowed the desert. Unfortunately, I do have experience with that, ah, watch the goods, kid!” Tony groaned when Peter shifted him a little too roughly.

            “Will do, boss,” FRIDAY complied, readying the elevator to receive the three of them.

            “Sometimes Tony, I really hate you,” Pepper said fondly, watching him lean heavily on Peter.

            “Why? I’m absolutely lovely. Don’t say things like that Pep, you’ll give Petey-pie the wrong impression of me,” Tony whined.

            Pepper let an unlady like sound.

            “Absolutely lovely? More like an absolute nightmare. I can’t wait to hear your ideas on how to explain this to the SI board.”


	2. Tony, NO!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony shares with Peter what Dr. Strange showed him. They go out for burgers. Both realize something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the anti-aging science Peter is working on is called microlipoinjection. We are pretending that for this fiction, it isn't a thing yet.

Chapter Two: Tony, NO!

            Tony was on his seventh bottle of Evian. SEVENTH. And yet he still did not have the urge to piss and he had been down in the lab for nearly an hour. He was downing water like a dying man and tossing the empty bottles over his shoulder, pitching them into the lab for DUM-E and U. They were more than taken with the sport, whirring and beeping happily as they retrieved the bottles and put them in the recycling bins. Every now and then there’d be a clatter of metal hitting the floor, where DUM-E ran into tables and toolboxes and knocked something down in his excitement.

He finally got Pepper to leave. Don’t get him wrong; he loved Virginia Potts from the first hair on her beautifully groomed head down to her manicured toes in a strictly ‘we tried but it will never work out and we are both too dependent on each other to stop being in each other’s lives’ sort of way, but that woman could be a goddamn harpy when she wanted to be. Finding Tony half dead-ish on his garage floor was a harpy trigger, apparently.

            The best they could come up with for his now roguishly youthful face was he took an extended vacation and while on it, decided that staring 50 in the face was midlife crisis material and underwent an extensive plastic surgery that restored him to his former glory. It was Peter’s idea that said he decided to try an experimental trial of injecting his fat into the cells of his face that had enhanced collagen to revitalize the skin after the surgery.*

            The science behind it really was brilliant, if Tony himself had anything to say about it. He let Peter run with that since if anyone could really crack the code, it would be Peter. Tony was discovering more and more how multifaceted Peter was in his intelligence. Some part of him in the back of his brain even acknowledged with the right guidance and education, Peter would probably someday surpass him in that department.

            While Tony and Pepper deliberated over SI business, Peter kept himself busy by starting his research into the anti-aging theory. When Tony finally got Pepper into the elevator and FRIDAY confirmed she was out of the building he found the kid surrounded by blue holographic screens displaying dense medical research and even one screen was displaying a liposuction procedure. Tony made a face at that and parted Peter’s screens.

            “Kid, I got something to show you. I didn’t want Pep to see it; not today at least, after everything that already happened. Let’s go up in the common area; FRIDAY, if you’d please.”

            “Sure thing boss,” FRIDAY quipped and Peter followed Tony into the elevator, FRIDAY lifting them automatically to their destination.

            Peter surveyed Tony’s face and it was impassive but he didn’t need his spider-senses to tell him whatever Tony was about to reveal wasn’t good stuff. If he was hiding it, from Miss Potts of all people, it definitely was bad business. Peter had come to be able to read Tony’s body language like a book after spending so much time at his side and knew Tony was the king of closing off all emotion, putting on and hiding behind the celebrity persona that Peter was slowly learning to hate.

            Peter hated silences and filled the elevator with excited chatter edged with nervousness about what he had read in some of the medical journals about some experimental trials and the findings. He knew Tony was only half listening and was ok with it that not everything he was saying was sticking anywhere in the older genius’s brain. Even if it was only momentarily, even if it was just partially, Peter was glad to provide some sort of comforting distraction to the man he so admired. Even after having a considerable amount of Tony’s attention for the couple of months since Siberia, Peter still had episodes of word vomit around Tony that left him flushed with embarrassment.

            The sadness in his eyes when they stepped out of the elevator onto the commons floor wasn’t something Tony couldn’t hide either as he swept around the room. The ghosts of his family that was now nothing but tattered shreds of misplaced anger and regret still haunted this place. This was only the second time since Siberia that he set foot on this floor. The first time was just after he was cleared to leave medical and he went into Steve’s abandoned room where it still smelled like Old Spice and clean soap, collapsed on the perfectly made bed and screamed into Steve’s pillows with so much anguish and rage he ripped the stitches open above his left eye.

            In Tony’s mind, he could see Clint seated atop the back of the couch, screaming obscenities into a head set while he slaughtered online players in Call of Duty. Vison and Wanda would be huddled around the stove while she attempted to teach the android to cook. Natasha and Bruce were doing yoga poses that even Tony wouldn’t dare on mats near the western windows where the afternoon sun flooded in and bathed them in it’s warm light. Thor and Cap would be engaged in some silly challenge initiated by Thor, like arm wrestling, and Tony would be on a Stark Pad, bitching at the two of them not to break his house for the thousandth time just to have his eye twitch at the sound of splintering wood.

            “Mr. Stark?” Peter asked the man, would had ceased movement after getting three feet into the room. Peter could see he was remembering and that it was painful. Tony didn’t respond to him and Peter knew the older man was a little bit lost in the fog of the past right now. He bit his lip and tentatively placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder, the warmth of his palm seeping through the cotton of Tony’s faded AC/DC t-shirt and the light weight of his grasp snapping Tony from his reverie.

            Peter smiled shyly but kindly at his mentor, his brown eyes earnest.

            “You still got me, Mr. Stark. I-I know it isn’t much, certainly not the same as having everyone around, but I really like being here with you every opportunity I get.”

            Peter could feel his face heating up at the confession, but the small genuine smile that broke out over Tony’s face at his admission made the embarrassment totally worth it. Peter loved it when Tony smiled, real true smiles, and on his now younger face he could see how ladies had just dropped into his bed with just a look. He got distracted from that line of thought when Tony wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, squeezing lightly, and Peter hoped Tony wasn’t feeling the same heat on his skin that he was feeling. The skin beneath Tony’s work roughened hand suddenly felt like molten lava.

            “Thanks, kid. These last few months have meant a lot to me. I’m afraid maybe our positions have been reversed; I think you’ve been more of a rock for me than I have been a mentor to you.”

            “No-no sir,” stammered Peter, shaking his head, “you have nothing to apologize to me for! You’ve been great, amazing! Really sir, being able to come spend the weekends here is the only thing that gets me through the week at school.”

            Tony shook his head.

            “You need better friends, kid, if hanging out with me is the highlight of your week. Come on,” he said, sliding his hand down to place it between Peter’s shoulder blades, guiding him toward the wide wrap- around white leather couch, “you are going to want to sit down for this one.”

            Peter sat on the couch while Tony preferred to stand, eyeing Peter and for once choosing his words carefully.

            “Alright, kid, what you are about to see is top secret for now. I’m the only other person who knows about it; I’ll share it with Vision separately. So, I need to know you can handle the weight of something of this caliber.”

            “Oh my God, of course Mr. Stark! I’d never tell anyone, I swear!” Peter exclaimed sincerely.

            Tony arched a brow.

            “Not even Ned, Peter. I’m serious about this.”

            “I swear, Mr. Stark, not Ned, not Aunt May. Not even under torture, I swear I won’t tell a soul!” Peter assured in that mile a minute way of his, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

            “Alright, let’s not get extreme. Nobody would torture you for this information…”

            Tony paused, rethinking that statement.

            “Well, actually, there are probably numerous villains that would like this information although it won’t do them a bit of good for world domination plans,” he mused and caught Peter’s slight jaw drop at his honesty, “but that’s neither here nor there, I swear, I don’t know how I get off on these tangents around you,” he quickly added. _Shut up, Tony!_ he screamed at himself.

            “Ok, right, so kid, trigger warning. There’s something you are about to watch that’s rather, well, gruesome? Hard to swallow. So, if you need FRIDAY to stop playing the video, just say the word.”

            “Alright,” agreed Peter, his long fingers splayed out across his knees, so eager to get on with it that it twisted Tony’s guts into knots and he felt as if he was suffering a bout of food poisoning.

            “Action, FRIDAY,” Tony spoke to the AI, who obliged him wordlessly with a 3D playback of what happened in the garage, starting with Stephen Strange suddenly stepping through a portal whilst Tony was occupied beneath the car.

            Peter watched with rapt attention, his eyes rounding with barely contained excitement upon witnessing the Sorcerer’s powers. His eyes bounced back and forth, following the person who talked as Tony and Stephen bantered and then it happened- Strange started showing Tony the end of the world.

            Tony watched Peter’s face as it slowly morphed in horror, eyes pinned on his own lifeless form hanging in the alien monster’s hand. The brown orbs took in the deceased bodies of his fallen comrades and all the other dead heroes he had yet to even meet. His fingers gripped tightly around his knees until his knuckles turned white and his eyes snapped up to find Tony’s, full of panic and questions that even Tony probably didn’t have answers to. Tony didn’t like it at all; it hit him in the chest and curled tight beneath his sternum. He never wanted Peter to look at him like that ever again- large brown eyes nearly hopeless and filled with doubt.

            Tony walked straight through the projection to Peter, taking a knee in front of the boy and placing his hands on both of Peter’s shoulders. Peter shuddered just slightly beneath his touch and Tony gripped just a bit harder, wanting to ground Peter with his presence and chase out the fear. This was so much, compiled with everything he already put the kid through; too much if he was being perfectly honest with himself, for a 15-year-old boy. It was selfish, and the guilt roiled in Tony’s heart.

            “Pete, look at me,” Tony said, letting authority leak into his voice but keeping his tone soft, waiting for Peter to raise his eyes to meet his own, steeling himself under their force when Peter met his gaze. Up this close, for the first time, he noticed that Peter’s syrup brown eyes were smattered with tawny flecks. Not sure why his supposedly genius brain was noting and filing that away right now, he shoved it aside in his mind.

           “Listen to me, Parker. What you saw there, I swear to you I am not going to let that happen. Whatever reality I failed in before, it’s not going to happen now. I know I haven’t been the ideal mentor. I’m putting more on you than I have any right to, but right now you and Vision are all I have. We are going to stop that monster, and I will not let him destroy you, or the world. Understood?”

           Peter smiled, glad Tony wasn’t touching anywhere on his body that would give away how his pulse was racing right now. He felt like his brain was short circuiting right now. Having Tony’s complete and intense attention on him like this overwhelming to say the least. He swallowed hard, willing his voice not to shake.

           “If anyone can do this, it’s you. I have complete faith in you, Mr. Stark.”

           Tony sucked in a breath and nodded, hoping the kid was right to believe in him. He wasn’t feeling as confident as he led Peter to believe, but he meant every word he said. He’d go down trying to keep this world from burning.

           “Ok, so I know I’m not going to be ready for any science-ing after all that. Why don’t we go drown our sorrows in greasy hamburgers and milkshakes? I’m just realizing how hungry pending world destruction and being de-aged makes me.”

           Peter smirked.

           “I could do with some comfort food.”

           “Great!” Tony exclaimed, pushing himself up and away from Peter, who stood and followed Tony back to the elevator. The doors opened with a barely there “shick” and they stepped inside.

           “FRIDAY, notify Happy we are making a burger run.”

           “On it, boss!” his AI replied in as close to a happy chirp as her computerized voice could get.

 

* * *

 

           Happy dropped them off at this hole in the wall burger joint in lower Manhattan. It was near closing time and the place was all but deserted. Tony knew the owner and exchanged pleasantries with him, keeping on his overly large sunglasses and joking about “having to keep his face pretty for the company” when the much older gentleman noticed the difference. The guy was a friend of a friend of his father’s, from an older time and Tony knew he’d never breathe a word of Tony being here or his appearance.

           They sat at a secluded vinyl booth in the back of the restaurant away from the windows. It wasn’t the most capacious design and Peter flushed hotly as his legs brushed against Tony’s beneath the table. He snatched up a menu and hid his flaming face behind it, trying to focus on reading the words. He chewed his bottom lip as he tried to contemplate why suddenly being within close proximity and even touched by Tony now affected him like this, when so many times before the same actions barely blipped on his radar beyond the awe he always held for Tony.

           “What looks good, kid?” Tony asked, and Peter lowered the menu enough to peer over the laminated sheet at Tony, who’d removed his glasses and some sort of amusement was glowing his eyes. Peter swallowed thickly and glanced back at the menu, registering pictures. He sighed to himself and lowered the menu with a half-smile.

           “I’ll have whatever is your favorite.”

           Tony smirked at that.

           “Hope you brought your appetite kid. This body isn’t almost nearly 50 anymore and worried about coronary heart disease.”

           When the waitress came back, Tony made double orders of triple decker cheeseburgers with all the fixings except onions, with larger baskets of fries and salted caramel milkshakes. Peter amended his to be chocolate, but promised he’d at least try Tony’s when Tony insisted it was one of the best things on the planet. Peter filled the time of waiting for the food by engaging Tony in his ideas for safer blunt tip cannulas that would inject automatically from the pilot needle. Stark used his Stark watch to pull up 3D schematics right there on the tabletop, and he and Peter hunched over it, twisting and turning the model as they discussed the inner workings of the automation of the needle.

           Tony spotted the waitress headed their way, laden with a larger tray of food.

           “FRIDAY, upload these to Peter’s files please,” Tony asked his AI through the watch, and they both watched as the hologram disappeared.

           “Thanks, doll,” Tony said, shooting the waitress that million-dollar press smile that caused her to blush and rush hurriedly away. Tony turned and looked at his burger in what Peter could only describe as predatory and he wondered briefly at the feeling of jealousy toward the dead flesh of cow. He picked up his burger when Tony did and went to take a bite but his efforts were thwarted when Tony bit into his burger and let out a low groan of pleasure at the taste.

           Fire shot through Peter’s veins and pooled in all the wrong (right) places. Alarms were going off in his head and he realized now what was going on.

           _Oh shit, I’m attracted to Mr. Stark!_

Peter mentally face-palmed. Of all the people in the world to get a crush on, he had to choose Stark. The multi-billionaire genius who could get anyone he wanted who would not so much as look at a scrawny teenage boy in that type of way. Oh, he was so fucked.

           _What he wouldn’t do to be fucked by Stark…NOT HELPING!!!!_

“Hey, kid, you gonna eat that?”

           Peter snapped out of his traitorous thoughts and realized this whole time he had been sitting there with his mouth half open, his burger only inches from his mouth as he spaced out. He could feel the flush overtake his cheeks, he hated how easily he blushed around Tony.

           “Uh, yeah, I-uh, just had a thought about the research is all,” Peter stammered and promptly shut himself up by taking a large bite of his burger.

           Tony eyed him while chewing thoughtfully on a fry. They elapsed into a mostly comfortable silence while they polished off their food. The waitress came back after a while and whisked away their trash and trays, and delivering their thick, handmade milkshakes. Peter pulled his happily to him, desperate for a sugar fix to make him feel better about his awkward realization.

           “Ah-ah. Before you sully your taste buds with chocolate, real original, by the way, you need to taste this beauty,” Tony commanded, dipping his silver long handled spoon down into his frosty treat and producing a heaping helping for Peter, extending it out to him.

           Tony was fully unprepared for Peter to lean forward and capture the spoon between his lips, slowly pulling back from it, the ice cream having disappeared from the utensil and into his mouth while Tony was too busy staring at how Peter looked up at him from beneath his long, long eyelashes. Peter sat and innocently savored the treat in his mouth, looking thoughtful as the flavors burst across his tongue.

           Tony realized his hand was still stretched across the table and pulled it back. This was Peter. He was an innocent kid, and Tony was obviously a pervert for thinking that Peter could’ve known how downright sexual that move was he just did. A disgusting pervert for how it made heat flash down Tony’s body as his horrid brain replaced the spoon with his dick and Peter on his knees in front of him. He called up his best memory of Pepper saying, “ _Tony, NO_!”

           Peter caught his eye, and Tony was momentarily terrified the kid could tell what direction his thoughts had taken.

           “I think,” Peter said as he scrunched up his nose a little bit, “that’s a little more sea salt than I’d like.”

           “Not a fan of salty foods?” Tony inquired, proud he kept his voice neutral.

           “No, I like salty. That thing,” Peter pointed at Tony’s milkshake, “is an acquired taste.”

           Tony put the brakes on the emerging train of dirty thoughts slamming into the station. _Tony, NO._

           Peter went on happily eating his milkshake, molesting his spoon with his tongue. Tony kept his face impassive and called Happy from his watch, to let them know they’d be ready to go just to have something to do to take his mind off from the kid. Kid, kid, kid, Tony reminded himself.

           The waitress came over with Styrofoam cups, pouring the rest of their shakes in the to-go cups. Tony went up to pay the bill, and Peter pulled his wallet out and placed a ten on the table. When Tony came back, he arched a brow.

           “Keep your money, kid, I have more than enough.”

           “Thank you, Mr. Stark. But if you are going to insist on paying, I’m going to insist on you letting me leave the tip.”

           Tony simply snapped his glasses over his eyes and made the gesture that indicated ‘after you.’ Peter slid from the booth with his shake, and as he headed for the door Tony reached in his jeans pocket and pulled out a small wad of bills. He tossed it on the table without caring to count it and followed the kid, resolutely looking everywhere but at the kid as they climbed back into the car as Happy held the door open for them.

           Peter watched the city go by out of the windows, sipping his shake. Tony pretended to be engrossed in his phone the whole way home, just one thing on his mind.

           _Tony, NO. Tony, NO. Tony, NO. Tony, NO._


	3. Mind Over Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vision quotes Mark Twain. Peter is domestic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, for your kudos, comments, bookmarks, everything! I'm so pleased to have so much support for this story! I hope you all enjoy the next chapter!

Tony rolled over in his huge California king sized bed, swathed so tightly in the white duvet that he looked like the cream filling of a Hostess Twinkie. He scrubbed a hand down his face and cracked open a whiskey eye, peering at the blacked-out penthouse windows where FRIDAY would surely have displayed the time upon detecting his waking up. Soft light lit the room at about 20%, FRIDAY following protocol to make the room lit just enough for Tony to see around the room. Tony groaned at the time, 3:30 in the morning. As tired as he should be, his new body decided that 5 hours of sleep was enough. Pepper would applaud him; 5 hours straight was probably close to record breaking when it came to Tony and his sleep habits.  
He let himself slump further down into the softness of the mountain of pillows spread at the head of the bed and contemplate life. In just one day his life totally tilted on its axis in a brand-new way and Tony never really did like surprises. What had happened to him in the last 24 hours somehow seemed more draining than having an absent and abusive father, years of being a playboy and drowning in alcoholism, Afghanistan, losing Pepper, his responsibilities as Tony Stark and Iron Man, and the fucking Accords and Siberia. He supposed if it was going to happen to anyone, it would happen to Tony Stark.  
Sighing, he shoved himself up from bed and padded across carpet so lush his toes sank into it toward his massive walk-in closet for a shirt. If he was going to be awake, he might as well get some work done. He tugged a faded Metallica t-shirt over his head, realizing the irony of actually owning and wearing the same t-shirt when he was originally 21 the first time. Fucking magic.  
He stepped into the elevator and leaned against the cool railing, fishing his Stark Phone out of the pocket of the black cotton jogger pants he wore to bed.  
“Where to, boss?” asked FRIDAY.  
“I’ll go to the lab; no one up but me at this time of the night.”  
“That’s not true, boss, as Vision is up and pacing the common area kitchen.”  
The AI’s voice seemed to be laced with a hint of encouragement, and Tony wasn’t sure if it was that FRIDAY became a tiny bit more human every day in understanding emotions or that his conscious was projecting his internal guilt onto the AI’s voice.  
Swallowing hard, Tony righted himself.  
“Take me to Vision.”

Tony took a breath to steady himself and stepped off the elevator when FRIDAY opened the doors. He clenched his fists at his sides and resolved not to look in direction of the couch, where just the other day he had nearly pulled Peter into his arms, awash with a fierce instinct to comfort and protect the boy after he watched himself die at Thanos’ hand. If he looked, he’d remember falling into the way Peter’s eyes shone when he said he believed in Tony, how it made his new, young heart squeeze with pride. He’d feel the flex of toned muscle in Peter’s shoulders where his hands gripped the boy that night. And that sinful way the kid licked that milkshake spoon…  
E = h f = (h/2π) 2π f = ~ω. E = 1 2mv2. p = mv. Tony let himself think about random quantum physics formulas. That was a safe train of thought. He rounded the corner and spotted Vision. The android was going through all the cabinets in the kitchen as if he was taking inventory. Vision had now taken to wearing human clothing and Tony wasn’t sure about how he felt about Vision’s sense of style, which seemed to be a page ripped right out of the Steve Rogers manual.  
Not that it looked bad; Vision pulled it off well. Tony considered fondly the soft cashmere V neck sweater, midnight black in color, that made the starched collar of the white and purple checkered button down pop that he wore beneath. He paired it with a pair of gray dress pants that looked like something straight out of Steve’s closet. The thought of the Captain made something pull painfully in his chest, and Tony heaved a great sigh and pulled a chair out from the marble topped island.  
Vision turned and gave Tony a warm smile.  
“Have you come to keep me company a while, old friend?”  
Tony bit his lip, drawing himself to sit up straight.  
“I’m afraid I don’t live up to that title.”  
Vision just gave him a searching look, his blue eyes doing that thing that made Tony feel like the android was seeing into his very core.  
“You have come seeking forgiveness, Anthony, yet there is no necessity for there has been no crime committed against me.”  
“Don’t do that,” Tony rasped, “don’t act like my avoidance of you since Siberia isn’t an issue.”  
Vision paused from his movements toward the coffee machine, turning to consider Tony a second time before continuing with filling the machine with freshly ground coffee beans for FRIDAY to begin brewing.  
“I think, Anthony Edward Stark, that you let the darkness of doubt that clouds your heart and whispers into your mind get the best of you. I gather, from the parts of me that are made up of JARVIS, this is a foundation laid deep within you by Howard Stark’s hand. For everything you have done in your entire life, you feel you never measure up. You are somehow convinced that you are undeserving of happiness.”  
Vision let this hang in the air and Tony could not deny any of it. If it was Steve saying this, Tony would deflect, would go on defensive, would escalate the situation until they were both so incensed that they forgot they were discussing Tony’s inadequacies. There was something about Vision that wouldn’t allow Tony to be false beyond a practiced smile.  
They listened to the coffee percolate, splashing down into the glass pot. It filled the air with it’s delicious aroma and Tony was pleased it was the special Turkish beans that Clint of all people had gone out of the way to make sure to bring back for him after his last mission there. Another twinge of guilt stabbed through him as he thought of the archer, how it had been nearly two months since he had chosen to come “out of retirement” and had become a fugitive. Tony should’ve reached out to Laura so long ago, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own pity party.  
Vision setting a mug of steaming brew before him jarred him from his thoughts and Tony murmured a low thank you, accepting cream and sugar when the android offered it. He wrapped his hands around the porcelain and let the heat seep into his hands in the way Pepper used to do on rainy days when she made her favorite tea. It was a comforting gesture and feeling somewhat fortified, Tony lifted his eyes to meet Vision’s.  
“Everything you say about me is true. I never could be what Howard wanted me to be, which was practically Steve, and for so long I bought the lie that my weapons were keeping people safe. I’m never going to have enough lifetimes for the Stark Foundation and Stark Industries to undo all the horrors the Stark name profited from. All the renewable clean energy, clean water wells in third world countries, the millions of dollars I pour into humanitarian causes, isn’t going to make up for, Vis.”  
“There is a saying: To err is to be human. You are only human, Anthony. Realizing the error of your previous ways and working to make the world a better place is a noble path. No matter how hard you try, you are one man and cannot ease all the suffering of this world. And despite how you may feel, all this world’s suffering is not brought on by you. I would say you are taking on your responsibilities as a human being quite spectacularly.”  
Vision thoughtfully sipped from his own mug of coffee, his eyes shutting happily as the flavors danced over his palette. This spurred Tony into action, remembering his own coffee nestled between his palms, and it struck him as odd he’d ever forgotten about it in the first place. Coffee was probably what ran through his veins in place of blood; ignoring coffee simply just wasn’t done by Tony Stark. Lifting it to his lips, Tony let the warm liquid fill his mouth and could feel it assuage a meager part of the ache he felt in his heart as he swallowed.  
Vision’s eyes found his over the rim of the mug and he contemplated Tony in that way of his, and Tony did his best not to fidget beneath the gaze.  
“I do not require an apology for your absence during your time of recovery from surgery and in your time of grief. I grieve too, for the loss of our comrades and for the mistakes that were made in the disagreement with the Accords.”  
The pain between the words was sharp, no matter how gently delivered in his soothing voice. Tony thought of the budding closeness between Vision and Wanda, how Rhodey had been accidently injured in Vision’s distraction by the fallen witch. It dug at him, pulling open barely healed scabs of betrayal and anger that even the coffee wasn’t going to fix.  
“I do require, however, an explanation of how you are suddenly sitting before me looking 30 years younger than when I saw you a week ago.”  
“Hold onto your coffee, Vis, it’s one hell of a story. FRIDAY, if you’d be a dear…”  
A holographic screen popped up in front of Vision, and FRIDAY let it run.

It was hard to gauge what Vision was feeling or thinking after the video finished. He simply drank from his cup, but Tony could tell the gears were turning in his mind. When he did finally speak, it was with a tone of acceptance that Tony didn’t like.  
“I guess I really am a monster. The end of this world will come because Thanos will want this.”  
He tapped at the luminescent orange gem on his forehead.  
“It isn’t your fault, Vis. Anyone on this planet could hold that stone, it wouldn’t make it their fault either. He’s just a power-hungry tyrant, as all villains are, but we are going to put in him in his place. Strange gave me this do-over for a reason, and I’m going to make sure this world ends up on the winning side.”  
Vision smiled at that, but it was one laced with eternal sadness.  
“We can’t do it alone, just us three and Strange. Thor is in Asgard and Banner is missing. You know you will have to reach out to our missing comrades.”  
Tony arched a brow.  
“You assume I know where they are.”  
Vision just smiled a knowing smile.  
“I’m not Secretary Ross, Anthony.”  
“You certainly aren’t, and thank Thor for that,” commented Tony whole-heartedly before throwing back the rest of his coffee. He made to stand, but Vision reached out and gently laid a hand on his forearm.  
“You are a good man, Anthony Stark. If nothing else proves it to you, let your guidance of Peter prove it to you. He comes to see me often, and all he ever talks about is you. He wants so badly to make you proud.”  
Tony took a deep breath and nodded. All Peter talked about was him? Yeah, the kid really did need a life. If Tony was the most interesting thing in his life, Peter was definitely doing something wrong…especially going around licking spoons like a god damn porn star, all in public too, little exhibitionist- TONY NO!  
“Uh, yeah, the kid is great. Genius in the making Vis.”  
Vision tightened his grip slightly.  
“He cares about you Anthony. Don’t shove him aside just because he’s younger than you.”  
Tony looked at Vision sharply, trying to dismantle what those words meant. Vision couldn’t possibly know about this weird, perverse train of thought Tony had been on surrounding Peter. The kid needed him to be a mentor. He didn’t need Tony trying to get in his pants…his delectably tight, ass hugging pants (TONY NO!). Being 21 again was fucking awesome but Peter still wasn’t the age of consent; the gap was still wide enough that Tony could go to jail in the state of New York.  
“I believe it was Mark Twain who said: Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter,” Vision supplied, his iridescent eyes watching Tony’s face.  
Tony slipped his arm free, his heart racing like he’d run a mile on the treadmill. He didn’t even have a comeback for that, just stuttered a “thanks for the chat,” and made like a banana and split. Vision just shook his fondly, watching as the billionaire bolted for the elevator and wondered how a genius could be so dense. Humans were truly interesting, mysterious creatures.

Tony didn’t want to think about the implications of Vision’s words and how they paired with Strange’s weird warning, so he did the usual Tony thing and buried himself in his workshop, beginning a complicated project that would require all his attention so he could think of nothing else. He had FRIDAY blast loud rock music while he worked, his AI favoring his fashion choice of the day and choosing Metallica. Tony was half way through the Black album and hunched over a complicated schematic when a hand touched his shoulder. Tony just about jumped out of his skin, whirling around on his wheeled stool as FRIDAY lowered the music to more tolerable levels for human beings.  
“Holy tits on a goldfish, Parker, you scared the shit out of me!” Tony barked, instantly feeling terrible at the way Peter shrank back.  
“I’m s-sorry, Mr. Stark, really, I called out to you like five times but the music was too loud. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to frighten you. I should’ve told FRIDAY to announce me or something, I’m stupid for not thinking of it before, really I’m sorry!”  
He was doing that thing he did, where he talked a mile a minute and his tawny brown eyes grew wide and his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. Tony was a sucker for that; Peter was a ball of passionate energy and he threw himself wholeheartedly into every situation he got himself into. Just like Rogers, Tony thought to himself before he pushed the thought away hurriedly.  
He held up a hand to stop Peter’s tirade, which surely would carry on for at least another ten minutes if Tony let it.  
“It’s ok, Peter, really. Good morning, by the way. What brings you down here this early?”  
Peter grinned at him sheepishly, making the dimple in his chin appear. Another one of those weird things that Tony’s brain cataloged for no apparent reason.  
“It’s not exactly early, Mr. Stark. It’s already 9:30 and I’ve been up since 7.”  
“What kind of teenager gets up at 7?” Tony asked incredulously.  
“Creature of habit, I guess,” Peter muttered, and that adorable blush was back. He nervously pushed at the stray curl that always flopped down on his forehead and Tony crossed his arms over his chest, feigning nonchalance and ignoring the whisper in his brain that made his fingers twitch, longing to sink his fingers in Peter’s soft looking hair.  
“Um, so I, if you want, and if not it’s totally ok too, I see you are busy and I don’t know when you got up, so maybe, already, and that’s fine because you can always heat it up later, but I – “  
Tony arched a brow with a smirk.  
“Do I need code to decipher what you are trying to tell me? Would it help if we tapped it out in Morse Code? You know Morse, right?”  
Peter got impossibly pinker, hating how he tripped all over his words like his tongue was sliding over a sheet of black ice.  
“Yeah, I’ve known Morse since I was like six,” Peter admitted.  
“Good to know. How long have you known plain English?” Tony teased.  
Peter smiled a small smile, ducking his head in embarrassment and pointed to the nearest work bench. Tony looked in the direction Peter indicated, noticing a large silver covered platter. His eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline.  
“You got me breakfast?”  
“Well, no, Mr. Stark. I made you breakfast. You know, homemade.”  
Tony stared at Peter, dumbfounded, letting that process.  
“You made me breakfast.”  
“Um, yeah. Is that not ok? I totally get it, you probably follow a strict diet, I probably should too, being a hero means you should stay fit, right? You don’t have to eat it, it’s just something that May and I do when she’s not working on the weekends and I thought, since I’m usually here, that maybe I’d carry the tradition over, but it’s ok, Mr. Stark, really you don’t have to eat any of it.”  
Tony leaned forward and physically clapped his hand over Peter’s mouth. Peter froze and his eyes went impossibly wide. Tony watched him intently for a moment before slowly removing his hand, settling back on his stool.  
“You bring me food, and yet, there it sits. Come on, kid, bring it over!”  
Peter nearly tripped over his Converse sheathed feet trying to get to the platter, and Tony had the fleeting thought that if DUM-E were human he’d have Peter’s grace. His enthusiasm was endearing and Tony caught himself smiling fondly. Peter returned with a plate heaped with still steaming pancakes, and the aroma permeated the air.  
“So, I made them with blueberries, well, because you are always eating blueberries, so I figured you’d appreciate them in pancakes.”  
Tony made grabby hands at the plate and Peter passed it to him with a chuckle. He left and came back with another plate, this one laden with sausage and bacon, a little glass bowl of maple syrup, and a fork balanced on the side.  
“Shit, kid, you really went all out, didn’t you?”  
Of course, Peter flushed; it was constant around Tony.  
“Don’t thank me just yet, you haven’t tried any of it yet.”  
“There’s too much at stake for you to poison me now, Parker, do it for after we save the world,” Tony grunted, stuffing a large helping of pancake into his mouth.  
When he swallowed, he stabbed his fork in Peter’s direction.  
“You, young man, have made a grave error in judgement. By feeding me this most ridiculously delicious breakfast, you have thus doomed yourself to be the personal breakfast chef of Tony Stark. I hope you made a lot because if I remember correctly, my 21-year-old self can eat a lot.”  
Peter was literally tickled pink, and they ate their breakfast, Tony declaring loudly to FRIDAY to note that Peter was now his most favorite and best Avenger when Peter passed him a whole thermos of freshly brewed coffee. Tony didn’t miss the way the kid’s eyes lit warm like the sunrise with every forkful Tony swallowed. That was something to think about.  
Peter swelled with pride; this was the happiest he’d seen Tony in weeks. Aunt May always told him that good food equaled a good mood; Peter was pleased that it worked. He just wanted to take care of Tony, in any way Tony would let him, and he figured if telling a little white lie about a “breakfast tradition” got him closer to that goal, it would be ok. He’d punish himself for it by washing all the dishes instead of letting the house maids do so.

Later that afternoon, when Tony reached over and snagged the edge of Peter’s stool, yanking Peter away from his own research in an abruptly rude fashion that scattered hologram screens as Peter’s body moved unceremoniously through them, and Peter couldn’t even bring himself to feel perturbed. He didn’t think it was possible for him ever to be truly mad at Tony anyway, but this…  
Peter gasped, his innocent eyes going round with excitement, but what made his heart race faster, he wasn’t sure. It could’ve been from the amazing prototype schematic for what Tony was calling the Iron Spider Armor, or it could’ve been the fact that they were sitting so close together that their thighs were pressed firmly together, and Tony was so wrapped up in explaining the upgrades, he didn’t think twice about the non-existent distance between their bodies.


End file.
